


A Stolen Moment

by lizbobjones



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Sex, Cas has some things to tell Dean about past adventures he had with his friend Benjamin, Cas in a female vessel, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, M/M, Multi, Post-Episode: s12e10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets, angel x vessel sex, excessive references to vessel consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizbobjones/pseuds/lizbobjones
Summary: “I remembered something,” Cas says. “When I saw Benjamin’s wings. I – I wanted to talk about it. And you’re the only one who –”He can’t finish that sentence, but he hears the rustle of Dean getting up from the bed, and approaching him. He turns, to find Dean hovering nervously just out of reach, looking more concerned than ever. “Cas, you can talk to me about, well, just about anything, you know?”- In which Cas reveals a long-forgotten memory of things getting heated with his old best friend, to his new best friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Coda to 12x10 - spoilers etc to be expected.
> 
> This is an incredibly self-indulgent fic and I have tried very hard to make it clear about vessel consent and so on, as well as respecting my own headcanons about Cas's sexuality and all the new canon we got on angels and how they've got a sacred oath to NOT do exactly the sort of thing Cas and Benjamin go off and do. Still, if you like the sanctity of Cas not having randomly had a ton of sex at some point in his life before he met Dean it's probably best to not read no matter how much you may or may not trust me to do it respectfully :P 
> 
> Since the show sucks at female characters and killed Benjamin off before we ever got to know him, I really wanted to write something celebrating what an awesome character he was, and Cas compared him and Dean directly, as well as giving us the beautiful opportunity to headcanon that he was in love with his own vessel. There's some great fics mentioning their vessels and I named Cas's vessel with the help of Bluestar86 on Tumblr, and in the same discussion agreed that Spearywritestuff (http://archiveofourown.org/users/Speary/pseuds/Speary) naming Benjamin's vessel Constance was great but then while we talked about it and what to call Cas's vessel some more, we remembered she was supposed to be Spanish and so I made a slight alteration to her name but it's still inspired from Speary's fic. The rest about these characters I made up and any reference to other headcanons is accidental if there is overlap
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/thette was the one who inspired me to write Cas/Benjamin in the first place when I was complaining that my plan to hopefully write Cas and Lily Sunder as lesbians together was ruined by canon being way too grim to ever swing it :D

Burned angel wings haunt Cas’s thoughts. For once, not an angel he killed himself.

Somehow, it actually hurts worse than blood on his hands.

It’s late and Sam and Dean left him to research some more on his own, heading off to their beds. Dean had looked especially apologetic about the human need to sleep, trying to make up for days of the silent treatment, sitting too close, laughing at Cas’s attempts at anything remotely resembling levity.

It’s been an hour since the Bunker fell silent, but Cas’s mind is still overwhelmed with memories – not just things he hadn’t thought of in years that seeing Lily had churned up, but things he thought he had lost forever.

He knows Dean isn’t asleep because, well, he knows.

When Cas knocks on his, door Dean offers a muffled “come in,” at once.

Cas is surprised to find him sitting on the bed with a stack of books – he would have guessed Dean would watch TV or at least not continue researching at the dead of night once the party had broken up.

“Are you okay, Cas?” Dean asks at once, putting his book down. It’s one of the many lore books from the library – all of them are.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Cas says. “Are you researching?”

“I only had a couple of beers,” Dean replies, defensive. “And I couldn’t sleep and I thought, might as well get a start. We’ve got a lot of work to do to figure out what the hell to do with a Nephilim after all.”

Cas nods, and glances back at the door. He’s having second thoughts already, and Dean seems busy…

“Was there something you wanted?” Dean asks, as Cas turns to leave, well aware of only having walked into the room, stared at Dean and made a few seconds of awkward conversation before abruptly going again.

He stares at the door for a while, and then closes it all the way until it clicks.

“I remembered something,” he tells the door. “When I saw Benjamin’s wings. I – I wanted to talk about it. And you’re the only one who –”

He can’t finish that sentence, but he hears the rustle of Dean getting up from the bed, and approaching him. He turns, to find Dean hovering nervously just out of reach, looking more concerned than ever. “Cas, you can talk to me about, well, just about anything, you know?”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean nods, swallows, and then awkwardly moves away to clear the bed of books. “Uh, why don’t you sit down?” he asks, sitting back in his spot. Cas can tell how nervous he is of being alone together, but it’s not the time to think about what is unsaid between them – what _they_ have together. Cas perches at the end of the bed, careful to stay out of the “personal space” range that Dean values so much.

“So what did you remember?” Dean prompts, shaking Cas out of inspecting his hands, not finding the courage to talk yet.

“I suppose it’s something wiped from my mind years ago… Perhaps immediately after; perhaps much later… I don’t think I would have forgotten it by choice…”

“What?”

Cas is still weighing his thoughts carefully – though this came back to him in sudden, vivid detail, he had barely had time to think about it, and putting words to it was harder than he had expected, especially now he was here with Dean. “Dean, do you promise to listen – _just_ listen – and not to interrupt or comment on anything?”

“Uh –”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, then, yeah, of course, man. No snarky comments. Lock ‘em up and throw away the key. So what is it?”

Cas continues to address Dean’s duffel bag, thrown on the bench in the corner of the room, than meet Dean’s eye, but it’s easier to get the words out that way. “Do you remember Naomi, the angel who was once in charge of keeping order among the soldiers of Heaven?”

Dean makes an extremely disgruntled noise of assent.

Cas smiles to himself at Dean’s protectiveness. “I only remember our latest encounters but she assured me I had been to her office many times – I think I have discovered another time, not long after our mission that caused so much strife for Lily Sunder.”

“She wiped your memory of that? You seemed fine.”

“No… I remembered that. But… I think I know why I was removed from that particular flight of angels. You have to understand, angels were not in the habit of taking vessels; our involvement on Earth was strictly about not interfering in human lives, and we were a small, specialised taskforce that I see _now_ may have been created to carry out Ishim’s ulterior motives…”

“What a dick,” Dean interjects. Cas forgives him immediately for interrupting this time.

“We had chosen our vessels before that mission, and we ran other missions on Earth once we had vessels and had been designated to do such things. For some time before and after we remained here or were the choice to send to Earth for small, unobtrusive operations. Heaven didn’t _need_ more than a few angels here, and those who were sent were often rotated out again after a few missions, so it never seemed strange to me that I was promoted into my new post I held when you and I first – for the next hundred years after these events.”

“That’s not the full story though, is it?”

Cas rubs his legs thoughtfully, resting his hands on his knees. He rarely thought of it as anything other than his own body now – he never had a need to. It almost surprised him to sit here considering it as a vessel. “When I told you about how close Benjamin was to his vessel, I was… Not entirely aware of the depth of that connection any more. It seemed impossible to find the words. Now I know those words were taken from me. They were in love.”

“… Oh, I figured. Well, I thought there was something fishy about the way you -”

“Dean.”

“Right, no comment.”

“Benjamin and I were close friends. We were posted on many missions together, often alone, for days or weeks. We _could_ remain in silence that long. But we talked. I learned that he treasured his vessel for her faith and the strength it leant him, and then I learned that he _cared_ for her. He talked to her, entertained her on the long watches with inward conversation. I had seen Benjamin stroke his own arm soothingly in dangerous missions, at least when we knew Ishim was far from seeing us. Once I caught him touch his own face as if he'd never felt it before. So I asked him in private, and he explained how close they had become. He was scared of what would happen if Heaven found out, but too attached to her to swap vessels – and it might draw more attention to her, if one of our superiors became suspicious of why he changed vessels. Having started our work with a Nephilim… I urged him to be cautious but he pointed out, what harm could he do when they were alone in one vessel.”

Dean shifts like he’s about to open his mouth and say something very Dean-like, and wisely stops himself.

Cas sighs, knowing he can’t stop the story there. “The problem was… I was curious too. I had begun with innocent questions about Benjamin's closeness to Constancia – that was her name; he spoke of how she adored him, how he felt her love with him constantly, how it made him stronger. I immediately wondered how much of same thing I had, and if this was just faith that he spoke of. I had a vessel too, after all, a devout woman in her own way, and I had ignored her completely, except –” He has to turn away and pointedly ignore Dean rising up like he has a hundred loud and probably insensitive questions. “Except to be frustrated with her constant presence as I grew used to sharing a body. After all, it was only a temporary measure, a vessel to use for a few missions that required us to come to Earth and blend in. After securing her consent, it hadn’t seemed important to find out anything else about her.”

“Yeah, you did used to be kind of a dick about that sort of thing.”

“ _Dean_.” To his credit, Cas thinks, he has managed without being told not to comment about Cas’s previous choice of vessel after how he’d questioned Cas’s introduction of Benjamin. “She was called Isabela. Constancia's faith was powerful and devoted, I think well-suited to love Benjamin and for him to love her easily in return. Isabela was wilder. She went into religious raptures when I spoke to her. She gave herself up to be possessed without a second thought, but for me, growing used to having a vessel for the first time in a thousand years… She burned hot and cold… Her presence was irksome.”

Dean laughs at that, in a very knowing way, and Cas smiles bashfully to himself. “I did my best to ignore her for weeks but… Once Benjamin told me about his feelings for his vessel, I was so curious to understand, even a fraction of it, I couldn’t stop myself from listening to her. Talking to her. I didn’t love her, not like Benjamin did, but I was fond of her and when she felt – felt _human_ things, I no longer pushed the feelings away. Feelings, I noticed, that were strongest in Benjamin’s presence, and when he talked of his own vessel. Isabela had a huge appreciation for Benjamin’s vessel before they ever talked. I suppose she was intrigued about who else would make such a decision – a common ground they immediately shared. And those feelings… I allowed them to mix with my own. Finally, her interest, or my own, led me to ask questions about their relationship that we had wondered for weeks.

“Isabela burned so hot when Benjamin spoke of the feelings he shared with his vessel, his fascination with the depth of her feelings and her history, the knowledge she had that angels were forbidden from. How she desired touch and had once sought it in her fellow women of faith - the feeling she said was as close as she'd come to the divine until being possessed by an actual angel. I felt my vessel trembling as Benjamin spoke of the pleasure he felt from _his_ vessel’s memories. I think we knew even this one conversation was enough for us to be punished for thousands of years, and so we finally voiced that we were curious to know more about the forbidden human feelings.”

“Wait, did you and Benjamin –”

Cas rolls his eyes right to the ceiling. “ _Dean_.”

“Sorry.”

“No, not right then. We were scared just to have had that conversation, and knew if we were ever to mention it again we must be careful about secrecy. He promised silence, a trust that I knew as his closest friend I could rely on, and we flew to our next posts. From then on being around Benjamin became confusing and distracting. I could hardly meet my friend's eye without feeling my vessel react in memory of what we had discussed. In Benjamin’s presence it seemed impossible to ignore my vessel or how she reacted in the presence of Benjamin and his.”

“You had a crush.”

Cas thinks about it and shrugs. It’s a silly human word for a concept that he thinks felt more like how two stars may share a gravitational field, but if it makes Dean feel better to think of it that way… “I suppose so. I was drawn to my friend. Angels don't have a meaningful concept of beauty to describe themselves or each other, but humans do. I found myself in contemplation of how it all made a strange amount of sense to think of Benjamin that way. On missions, or distracted from my watch. I think there came a point where I realised I cared about Benjamin more than the job, and at that point I knew we would be punished for a capital offence no matter what our actions were, and it gave me reckless courage to approach Benjamin again. I thought if we could address it directly, perhaps we could move past our… distractions… and continue as if nothing had happened, and just maybe we would survive having fallen to human temptations.”

Dean mutters something that sounds like “Angel logic…” but Cas pushes on with the story without chastising him yet again.

“I shared my concerns that our discussion of attraction and human desire had affected my judgement, and I thought that Benjamin’s had been too. Benjamin suggested our vessels talk to see if they agreed with his inelegant solution. I only agreed to it – to let them discuss it – because I was desperate.” He hangs his head, pushing out a confession that through memory tampering, seems like he has never voiced it before, yet it echoes in his mind as if he is telling it to Benjamin in that moment. “I wanted it to stop. I wanted to touch Benjamin. It was… confusing. He felt the same. Our vessels… Also did.”

“So you made some horny teenage angel spring break plans?”

“We made plans like we were preparing for a dangerous mission. One that could get us killed. And, it seems, got us reassigned, never to see each other again and our memories wiped of the incident, until with Heaven’s weakened hold on me, and seeing the ashen imprints of Benjamin’s wings on that wall, I finally remembered why I had not seen him again.”

“Oh.”

Cas looks down at his hands, and sighs. He doesn’t expect Dean’s next move at all – he nearly jumps when Dean lurches into his space and puts an arm around his shoulders. “Even for us, that kinda sucks more than usual. I can’t imagine what it would be like to forget you.”

Cas is so surprised he leans into the awkward hug without resisting, hands still rigidly held in his lap, staring straight ahead. Dean is just letting go when Cas manages to move and return the sideways hug. Dean’s warm and lets himself be drawn right back into Cas’s space, and they sit quietly, arms around each other for a minute. Cas thinks about how he has forgotten Dean before, and how he only came back to himself when Dean returned to his life. How, really, Dean had pulled him back to himself so many times, even let Cas break through that same programming on multiple occasions.

The comfort of a hug had been all Cas was craving, while he sat in silence and remembered at the war room table. But here on Dean’s bed, when he finally pulls away properly and moves back to sit against the headboard, Cas watches him go, and he feels emptier not to have Dean holding him, as awkward and sideways and shoulder-patting as that hug had been. He wants more.

“So, wait,” Dean says. “Did you actually hook up with Benjamin or did they catch you before you did anything? And if you did... And you were both in female vessels, does that make you a lesbian?”

And Cas is back to rolling his eyes and remembering that he’s banned Dean from asking these sorts of stupid questions. “If you must know, yes.”

“Yes, you’re a lesbian?” Dean teases, grinning now. Cas is infuriated but also suddenly so aware of how much Dean means, when he has all this extra context flooding his brain. He wants Dean to understand what he’s feeling, wants him to know exactly why it matters. He’s probably not making the best decisions, but he had had that feeling of _want_ erased from his head, forgotten what it was like until sitting here watching Dean laugh.

He gives Dean one more irritated look, and leans across to place two fingers on his forehead, to _show_ him.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel checks the wards around the room a third time. He drew them and normally that's more than enough to be confident that they should be protected from Heaven's gaze. Still, they’re risking almost everything to do this. He’s tempted to check again.

“It’s okay, we’re safe here,” Benjamin says, “Unless you somehow managed to trap Ishim in here with us.”

He’s only just appeared in the room before Castiel drew the last ward. He’s standing close to the bed, and, turning to look at him for the first time, Castiel feels his vessel's heartbeat increase at once. Benjamin tips his head, reading Castiel’s alarm as about the joke, and his voice softens apologetically: “I trust you.”

Castiel nods curtly, and crosses the room to stand in front of Benjamin. The house is empty, clean and protected, both from angels and from humans who may stray there despite the remoteness of the location. It’s exactly what they discussed. Castiel knows he’s done a good job. He’s not sure what he’s scared of.

Benjamin looks him up and down, a smile appearing on his vessel’s face. It might be her smile. When they are alone Castiel finds the line between Benjamin and Constancia moves constantly.

Now she wants to touch Castiel. Or Isabela, Castiel’s vessel.

Now they are finally here, things become quiet and slow.

Benjamin moves first, taking Castiel by the arms to pull him gently closer from his nearly combat-ready stance a couple of feet away.

“You can relax here, Castiel. It’s just us. Well, all four of us.”

Castiel lets himself be guided until he’s inches from his friend, marvelling at the intricacy in his vessel's beauty - all the tiny mathematical details of proportion that make up every face and yet no human is the same. Something in Constancia resonates with Benjamin in a way that drew them together and matched them. Her face is an expression of the same things he marvels at in Benjamin.

He rests their foreheads together and takes a deep breath. Leans away again to meet Benjamin’s eye.

“Constancia has the experience. What would you suggest we do first?”

“These clothes will probably be better suited on the floor,” she replies. Her voice is richer than Benjamin’s – it contains laughter and at the moment a tremble of excitement. And this statement is the real reminder that they’re not meeting to talk, or even just the prospect of doing a regular mission that the soothing task of painting wards had created in Castiel’s thoughts.

Constancia is smiling coyly at Castiel, and not waiting for his reaction, her hand reaches up for a moment, a curious, playful movement perhaps to touch his face or hair, but Benjamin wills the hand back to their side, resumes standing with a relaxed posture in front of Castiel but very clearly waiting for his superior to decide if this was their next course of action, same as any order given in battle.

“We can start there,” Castiel agrees. He looks Benjamin up and down, examining the clothes Constancia has been wearing the whole time since Benjamin had taken her as a vessel. It has never once crossed Castiel’s mind to wonder how the layers of fabric worked. Her dress has so many buttons. Castiel has an increasing realisation of how out of his depth he is here, that no tactics or battle plan in the world could prepare him for this, and though it might be cowardly, and Benjamin will surely laugh at him for it, he slips back deep into Isabela's mind, allowing her control of the vessel.

It takes her less than a second to adjust, her eyes re-focusing on Benjamin. He feels that jolt of adrenaline and heat flood through her, as she immediately has emotional and physiological reactions to the scenario. He has been suffering it for months, but with Castiel not consciously pressing these reactions down, he already feels overwhelmed.

Isabela smiles, dips politely because she’s been raised to be a perfect host. “Hello, Benjamin, Constancia,” she says, as if they were newly arrived guests.

Benjamin takes her offered hand, turns it wonderingly for a moment, and then gives it back. “Constancia has been dreaming of you,” he tells her.

Castiel had never felt as buffeted by human emotion as having to suffer through Isabela blushing hot.

She knows why she has been handed the reins of her body – she has been allowed to watch closely since Castiel first set eyes on Benjamin in this room – and she bites her bottom lip, smiling to herself and therefore Castiel, and moves around to begin undoing the buttons on the back of the dress. He thinks she might be laughing at him as well.

“You can tell Constancia I’m looking forward to this,” she informs Benjamin primly, like she too wasn’t breaking a taboo of her own society but meeting a friend for tea.

“I’m right here, Isabela,” Constancia replies, twisting to look. Their eyes meet and Castiel almost steps in, certain Isabela will be harmed by the intensity of her heart in that breathless moment. Constanzia chuckles and turns away again, raising her arms to allow Isabela access to the next layer of buttons. Isabela keeps working, her heart rate not slowing and despite her skill, her fingers shaking and fumbling.

The layers of clothing drop away until Isabela helps pull a shift over Constancia’s head, and kneels in front of her to help her out of her shoes. “I like these stockings,” she murmurs, running her fingers boldly up Constancia’s leg to rest on her thigh where the stockings are held by ribbon threaded through the lace at the top.

“We can keep them on, if you like. Since I’ve been with Benjamin they haven’t fallen down once, and I doubt they’ll start now.”

Isabela and Constancia laugh, and Isabela self-consciously touches her hair. “I had so much trouble keeping a hat in place but Castiel fights like it’s not even there. If I did... It wouldn't be!”

They laugh again and Castiel risks a glance at Benjamin to check if he thinks they are being mocked, and what they could do about it.

He – and it’s definitely Benjamin – reaches down and pulls out the hat pin in Isabela’s hair, and watches it all come tumbling loose. “It's your turn,” he says, and offers Isabela a hand up, pulling her to her feet so effortlessly she giggles dizzily, and Castiel feels jealous of his own vessel. Her hand that was on Constancia’s thigh has moved to her waist, sliding up the hot skin beneath her fingertips, and Isabela sways closer, presses herself against Benjamin; at the last moment Benjamin melts back to Constancia and lets their vessels’ lips meet, a deep kiss that throws Castiel’s grip on even watching clearly into chaos.

When Constancia pulls away, she or her angel has sneakily undone Isabela’s coat and deftly started popping buttons on the dress below.

Constancia works less with Isabela's lady’s maid efficiency at undressing, and more for her own pleasure, leaving Isabela's skirts alone and uncovering her top half, kissing her again between layers, kissing along her shoulders as she uncovers them, and when she has Isabela bare to the waist, leaning close to press their chests together, her hand tracing up Isabela's stomach to flutter teasingly over her breasts, tweaking and teasing her nipples to firmness.

She pulls away after a moment. “You are allowed to touch me too.”

“I - I can’t. Castiel is...”

“Too rigid, as always,” Benjamin says, fondly, as Castiel steps indignantly away.

“I was not –” He can’t find any words to explain what his resistance to it was – his shoulders slump and he looks away, distractedly checking, only to see that the wards are still exactly as he’d left them and need no attention.

“Are you still comfortable with doing this, Castiel?”

Now that it is Benjamin standing naked in front of him, fully in control of the vessel and every inch of it belonging to him, Castiel finds he is no longer accidentally averting his gaze, but his eyes are drawn to Benjamin’s soft lips, damp with the memory of recent kisses and inviting more, unable to stop himself looking at the roundness of his breasts, stomach marked by a thin path of hair from his belly button down between his legs. Castiel wants to know his friend closer, in every human way that he’s ever rolled his eyes at when their watch over the earth had, well, included watching earthy things. Benjamin standing naked in front of him, offering everything, is a new perspective on the entire universe.

“I haven't changed my mind.”                                                                

Benjamin nods, frowning in thought. Or inward conversation. Then he looks up and smiles. “I know how to get you to unclench. Constancia and I have discussed – in great length on those long boring watches – what we might like to do. But there's always what you could do for us.”

Castiel frowns. “What do you mean?”

“We’d like to watch you indulge in our fantasy first.” He steps back into Castiel’s space to resume freeing him from the confines of Isabela’s dress, and Castiel struggles not to lean into him or shiver every time the back of his hand brushes over his stomach as Benjamin works through the fastenings Constancia neglected. His face is so close, but his eyes are turned downwards, watching his hands work, and Castiel is scared to interrupt him with the kisses he wants. And there’s the dawning realisation what Benjamin’s words meant.

“You want to watch me pleasure my vessel?”

“We want to watch you share a sexual experience.”

“If I hadn’t spoken to you about this – if we had never –”

“I wouldn’t have even thought of it, never mind dared to try it. You’ve emboldened us. If you, Castiel, can be distracted by human yearnings, even if you’re still acting this uptight about it after supposedly giving in… what hope is there for the rest of us?”

Castiel catches his hand, stopping him from doing the last few buttons that hold the skirts bunched around Castiel’s waist. “I don’t – I do not want to encourage this blasphemous behaviour. We’re doing this once. As a necessity.”

“Then all the more reason to enjoy it as thoroughly as we can before it’s back to those stuffy watches.” He pulls the skirts so they fall around Castiel's ankles with a rustling thump of heavy material. Benjamin stands back as if to admire his handiwork and Castiel feels the loss of him at his side like a tug.

Castiel gets how it works now - he pleases Benjamin and Constancia and then he gets what he desires. And, he guiltily thinks, what Isabela wants.

 _What do you want?_ He wonders, settling onto the bed.

 _I want that feeling of being close to the divine,_ she tells Castiel. She’s not a virgin - she has a childless marriage, the association of sex is to her a dull pain as her husband lies grunting on top of her, and a yearning for something more, something _else,_ because she was clearly not made for this. She’d sought it in the church. She’d sought it in her faith in angels.

It’s the condition of her consent to this act, and he assumes easy to grant.

He settles against the pillows and stretches her legs out straight, curious to actually look at the body he's been possessing for months. It never really occurred to him to think about it - she functions perfectly adequately with all the layers of her Sunday best wrapped around her like armour, as he'd found her. Now this body is naked and exposed, and flooded with chemicals and tension of its own creation that makes it tremble slightly with Isabela's anticipation. He doesn’t have a great deal of enthusiasm to touch her just to feel her body under his hands, but the raw feelings, the deep down turbulence that has made sharing with her so confusing, is something he can touch – it’s what he’s been shoving down without indulging.

He makes her relax before slowly beginning to hand control of the vessel back to her, a teasing exploration of the inner workings of her nervous system. He works from the feet up, inviting her awareness to her toes as he pulls his grace away; lets her have her heels, ankles, up her legs (though not between them yet, leaving that intentionally numb, angelically bored in proceedings), to let her feel with no barrier of his control her stomach muscles, her chest. Her shoulders and neck, and she lets her head fall back, parting her lips in a peaceful, almost hypnotic state; he’s had her eyes closed since he started but she doesn’t open them. He runs her awareness down her arm and into her fingers of one hand - the other he keeps.

In her stupor she is as suggestible as he had found her at the church when he asked to be invited in. Now he places his hand on her solar plexus, feels her steady breathing, and clarifies with her that this is what she wants one last time.

“Yes,” she breathes, and Castiel skims his fingers over the curve of her stomach, trailing electric hyper awareness behind them as his fingers demand her full attention. Through the hair between her legs and into the waiting wet heat.

She arches her back and cries out – “Oh! God! Heavens above!” and Castiel has to wrench back control of her other hand to press over her mouth. When she subsides he lets go gently.

“Please, if you have to pray, pray to the angels inside the warding,” he begs her.

His anxiety is clearly funny, because Benjamin laughs from where he’s standing at the foot of the bed. He shakes his head fondly, like he knew this would go wrong.

Castiel scowls at him, and leans back slowly, trying to return Isabela to her calm state. He lets her breathe for several moments, then takes her wet fingers and runs them over her nipple, twisting it and pinching, remembering how much he wanted to touch Benjamin – what he would have done if he’d been braver and made the first move to touch between them.

He reaches between Isabela's legs slowly this time, playing with the folds of flesh, learning the landscape between. Theoretically he knows exactly how to do this but putting his hands to the task while not over-exciting his vessel is more challenging than he thought. He could send her over the brink immediately if he mixed his grace into it, but he wants to do this the human way, and that makes it all so much harder to control. Humans are messy and unpredictable. Her body is locked tight, arced off the bed, her legs shaking, her stomach muscles twitching as he pushes fingers back inside her, and her throaty gasps grow louder, though thankfully still wordless and no longer praying; inwardly he hears his name over and over again.

Castiel risks a look but Benjamin is standing still like he wouldn't move for a thousand years, impassive as when they stand and watch over the Earth. Castiel closes his eyes again and focuses on matching the internal muscle spasms and jolts of nerve activity with his own movements, frustrated by the boring repetition of the action, how long he’s been working at it to build the pleasure shock by shock inside her body. But at the same time, amazed at how this sensation overwhelms her and freezes her and shrinks all the world down around them so even the walls of the room seem far off and distant. Castiel is used to feeling the world almost infinitely around him if he cares to look, but this is far from the blind ignorance humans have of the universe – it’s a selfish, fiery pleasure centred around their own body, and it makes it hard for an _angel_ to control. He isn’t sure he could take back full control of her body right now, and that’s almost exciting.

Isabela sighs and bucks her hips, throwing him off his rhythm every time, despite her immediate frustration when he does so. She licks her own fingers of her free hand, sinking them deep into her mouth and groaning. The way her tongue moves, how she thinks about it, Castiel realises it’s aimed at himself, as if because she can’t kiss or touch him any other way this is what she’ll do instead. She picks up where Castiel left off playing with her breasts, teasing a little more over-stimulation into their game as she grows used to pushing against him.

He hadn't expected it to feel like physical pressure, like the more he works the greater a pressure grows weighing on her stomach and pressing inside her. It makes him wish there really was someone between her legs, actually pressing against her, and though in spirit he doesn’t feel alone, the emptiness of stretching across the large bed with only himself for company hits him. He closes their eyes and imagines Benjamin sitting beside them and just pressing down on her stomach to match the pressure, and is met with the strongest, most pleasurable muscle spasms yet - Isabela gasps in shock and Castiel finally is beginning to move instinctively, forgetting to monitor the tiny details of her arousal but feeling the pleasure sink into his own being inside her, sharing fully in it. He pictures that touch again but now dares to meet his fictional Benjamin's eyes, gives in to the indulgence to stare at him, to picture that he's already touching them.

Isabela goes taut and cries out, “Oh, Benjamin! Castiel!” and the pressure breaks in a wave of pleasure that carries Castiel away from his thoughts for an embarrassingly long time, while Isabela lays panting and flushed and wet with sweat, filled with endorphins. He needs every ounce of control to master the shaking in his limbs and sit up.

Benjamin is staring at him with an awe that Castiel would have called blasphemous without any context, never mind knowing it was because of what he'd just done. He doesn't have long to reflect before Benjamin crawls onto the bed, sinking onto the space beside Castiel, stretching out tantalisingly close enough to touch if Castiel dared.

“You were perfect,” Benjamin says, already spreading Constancia's legs to mirror what Castiel had done, a finger teasing lightly between his legs. Castiel sits up on his heels and watches, troubled at his own feelings, as Constancia and Benjamin touch. It’s far more intimate – trading hands, touching fingers to lips, exploring her body and teaching him about it in turn, sometimes guiding each other’s hands, Benjamin’s fingers strong and pressing deep into her skin, hers clever and skilled and playful. Now they are allowing themselves to be together – truly together – their movements blur until Castiel can't tell who is touching who, just that they have the same fluid intimacy in their movements.

His only relief is that it is over quickly – less than half the time it took him to work Isabela into that state. He supposes watching them had sped things up.

Watching Benjamin marvel at the wetness on his fingers is too much.

“What should we do now?” Castiel asks, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager to interrupt their afterglow and move to the kind of intimacy they tempted him into this pact with.

“Now... We thank you.” Constancia takes control over Benjamin – Castiel knows she can't have the strength of will to throw off angel possession but that's how it felt to watch him immediately disappear so she could reply fluidly, grinning at him. She rolls up onto her own knees, moving towards him, putting her hands on his knees, leaning forwards...

He dives behind Isabela's consciousness and let her kiss back, let her tip her head back and sigh as Constancia’s lips explore along her jaw, under her ear, and down her neck. She puts her mouth on Isabela's breast, sucks playfully for a second then moves away to trace kisses down her stomach. He watches, detached, curious, as Isabela grabs a handful of Constancia's curls and digs a hand into her shoulder as she kisses along down one thigh and then back up the other.

She’s skilled, no doubt. Constancia can’t feel what an angel could, understanding how each touch and lick affects Isabela on a molecular level, but her mouth seems to do exactly what it has to anyway to drag more moans and exclamations from her than Castiel managed; adding a finger and then a second when more is needed than just her tongue circling and exploring.

Sitting back in Isabela's mind with no burden to concentrate on what he is doing as a part of this, Castiel abruptly realises he is enjoying it, despite all his reservations. Not even in control of the vessel, he is nothing more than his own consciousness wired to her nervous system, which is so overwhelmed with information that in a thrilling way Cas becomes no more than a being of pure pleasure. It unsettles him to realise that Isabela feels just the same, from her perspective, and that they are sharing these feelings intimately close, a sort of emotional intercourse of vessel to angel as they share the same receptors. If this was what Isabela meant about feeling close to the divine… She rakes her nails down Constancia's back and cries out, oblivious to the blasphemy of this act. Lost in the moment, Castiel can’t help but be thrilled by it.

This time Castiel is quick to assert control again and distance himself from the stunned feelings of his vessel.

“Thank you, Constancia,” he says, and means it.

She smiles at him. “I thought this act made me unclean. I repented every time I prayed, asking God forgiveness that I took my friends home for Bible study and knelt before them instead. And he sent me Benjamin and you. I should be thanking you.”

“I-Isabela also is grateful, that I took her from a loveless marriage and let her experience this. She wants you to know that.”

She took his hand and turned it, tracing the palm. “Angels are different than I expected.”

“How so?”

“You're more like us than I would have dreamed.”

Castiel pulls his hand back.

“Right, she snorts. “You’re still prideful about it. But not above indulging anyway.”

Castiel turns away, not wanting to admit anything to her, and feels Isabela chide him – he keeps her locked down too.

Constancia rolls her eyes at him and lays back, resting her head on the pillows and stretching, settling in a pose with her knees up. She taps playfully on her stomach, fingers trailing lower and pulling back before she gets too far below her belly button. “I think you know what's next.”

It is fair after all. And he doen’t have to do it. Castiel cedes control back to Isabela.

She moves to sit between Constanca's legs. She is still for a long while, contemplating the sight in front of her. She’s fascinated to see a woman naked, at least in this unusual way of offering herself, running her fingers across the taught skin of her stomach in enticing circles, teasing Benjamin somewhere inside her as well. Isabela places her hands on bare thighs, squeezes the flesh thoughtfully, stroking and seeking spots that make Constancia quiver when her inner thigh is teased. She steers her legs apart. Lust runs through her like a tremor of heat and want, a boiling feeling inside her. But she's also terrified. She puts her lips on Constancia’s knee and freezes.

 _What’s wrong?_ Castiel thinks at her.

_I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how. Can you do it?_

_I can’t. She’ll understand. She’ll show you what to do._

_No, we have to do it right for her. You knew how to turn me inside out. You can figure it out._

She's right - pleasure is entirely manufactured, easy to create the sensation with a rudimentary knowledge of how genitalia worked.

He looks at the woman laying on the bed before him – beautiful by human standards, fascinating to him. Familiar as the mask of his friend's face. Currently just a mask. A human woman.

He puts that thought out of mind and trails kisses down her thigh, paying attention to how she sighs and wriggles with pleasure. He could guess how she felt, maybe start touching and when he has the rhythm, has worked up some muscle memory, hand back to Isabela to finish... But that would mean actually involving himself with Constancia. He doesn’t even think these kisses against her leg are honest. She shares a body with Benjamin – it would be exactly like this, but… It’s not how he wants it to be.

He sits back on his heels. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Constancia sits up, looking worried rather than angry. “Are you okay?”

And it should be laughable that a human sounds worried for him. She’s full of love. Maybe even for him, but he just feels a cold cosmic distance. “I’m not attracted to you. Or Isabela. I don’t love either of you this way and... I can’t do this. I don’t want to –”

Benjamin takes over at once, sitting straighter, the look on his face shifting to puzzlement. “You agreed to do this for our vessels. You said their attraction was distracting you and you wanted them to experience it so we wouldn’t be burdened with their longing. And that’s what we’ve been doing; letting them experience each other. I’ve been lounging back here letting Constancia have all the fun because I thought this was for her. And Isabela.”

“I know what I said. And they’ve had time together. If we continue this, I want you now.”

Benjamin can't disguise his shock. “Me?”

“You’re my closest friend, and I think the feelings – the emotion of being in a vessel – has changed the way I think of you. Or opened my eyes.”

Benjamin nods, still surprised, and glances around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “You did all this because you wanted me?”

“I understand if you don’t – you made it very clear you’re more fascinated with humans than I will ever be, and perhaps watching them play is all you needed out of this. But I hoped...”

“Castiel,” Benjamin laughs, “I hadn't touched you because I thought the same thing. You said you were having problems with your _vessel_ , not with your own heart.”

“You -”

“Everyone wants a piece of you, Castiel. Angels ask me whose command I’m under and then when I say Ishim, they say, oh, so you fight alongside Castiel. They’re _jealous_. I just seem to have got lucky that you want me back.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“You say that because you’re the only one who doesn’t get to hear what they say about you in Heaven.”

Castiel looks ruefully away, not because he wants to know, but because he wishes he’d known sooner about Benjamin – he knows love doesn’t have to be exclusive but he’d thought that Constancia had taken the lion’s share of Benjamin’s, that he would never get a chance.

It’s comforting that Benjamin is still grappling with the same problem. “So you really want to do this – to share yourself with me.”

“Wholly. Let our vessels watch now. I want you.”

“And I you.”

He leans forwards, reaching for Castiel’s hands, but the tender gesture is all the cue Castiel needs. He tugs him into a kiss, fierce and long-awaited, their bodies tangling together until Castiel has the leverage to push him back over and sit astride him, pressing all the more kisses against his lips, running his hands down Benjamin’s sides, feeling him as warm and whole in that vessel, all Benjamin and all his. And every groan and whimper he wrings from Benjamin as he explores his body with his hands, belongs to him.

Benjamin doesn’t mind the possessiveness – he clutches at Castiel, gripping hard enough to his shoulders that a human would break, hooking his legs around Castiel and grinding against him with a force that moves the bed. Seeing the possibility, Castiel pulls them upright, fumbling to move their legs so they can press themselves together, and he has Benjamin squirming in his lap, letting him touch and kiss to his heart’s content as they move together. Two angels can make the bed thump the wall hard enough to make plaster dust fall from the ceiling – the window cracks with the pressure as a storm builds outside, and finally Castiel has to pull back and check that the cracked window hasn’t damaged the warding he’d so carefully painted there.

Benjamin looks dazed and pleased, trailing fingers over Castiel’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss along his collarbone. “It’s fine, I can feel it’s still intact,” he murmurs, teasing Castiel’s breasts, trying to pull him back into the moment.

Castiel stops to admire him, his skin darkened and sleek with sweat, chest heaving, his eyes adoring. “I love you,” Castiel says, surprised at himself, sounding it out for himself.

“Castiel, you said this was a one-time thing. We go back to our posts like this never happened.”

“I know. But I will do so knowing this.”

“You can’t know it. They’ll find out – they’ll punish you, and this could be a death sentence. How hard do you think I have to work to hide that I love Constancia?”

“Not hard enough – I knew you did before you told me.”

“That’s different. I trust you with my life, Castiel. And hers.”

“I won’t let them find out.”

Benjamin sighs, rubs Castiel’s arm gently. “I know. I know you were scared...”

“I’m not now.”

“You should be.”

Castiel pulls him closer, nuzzling against his jaw. “It will be fine.”

Benjamin tips his head back and sighs as Castiel starts kissing him again. “I know.”

Castiel kisses from his throat, down to that stopping point that had thrown him before, presses his face between Benjamin’s legs, and draws cries out of him that are lost in the thunderstorm that forms in the mountains around them. After, Benjamin curls against Castiel’s side, and slips his hand between Castiel’s legs, and touches him slowly, lovingly, until Castiel has shared in their pleasure too, and they lie beside each other, listening to the rain on the windows, stunned by their actions.

“How long have we deserted our posts for?” Benjamin eventually asks.

“Long enough,” Castiel sighs, sitting up.

A hand catches his arm – it’s Constancia who speaks through Benjamin. “May I say goodbye to Isabela?”

He relaxes his grip on his vessel, and it takes Isabela a moment to return from whatever rapturous place she’d been in. She lets Constancia fold her into her arms, holding her close in a peaceful hug. “I’m so glad we got to meet,” Isabela says.

“I’m sure there aren’t many stranger ways to find a lover,” Constancia laughs. “I will be looking at you, when Castiel and Benjamin meet.”

“And I you. Maybe when their work is done, we can find a way to stay together. Castiel said that he would let me go when their watch was over.”

Constancia frowns, and her hand goes to touch her own arm, that gesture she and Benjamin share with each other. Castiel suddenly thinks that Benjamin doesn’t want to leave his vessel behind, and Constancia knows it. He chooses to keep that thought from Isabela. As fun as this was, he does not want to deal with a vessel forever.

“We have to go,” he says, interrupting the womens' conversation. “We should get dressed. We’ve been away from our posts too long.”

When they have put their armour back on, Castiel feels the finality of the moment. Benjamin does too – they pull each other close for a final kiss at the same moment.

When they part, Benjamin smiles at Castiel. “Thank you, friend.”

He steps away from Castiel, and then flies away.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas pulls his fingers away from Dean’s forehead. Only a moment has passed, but it felt like an eternity as he relived the memory.

“Holy _crap_ ,” Dean says.

“I suppose despite my reassurances, and all the trouble I went to to protect us, it was too obvious and they found out. When I was moved to my next command I had no need of a vessel, and no memory of my attachment to her, regardless,  so I left Isabela behind, and never thought of them again, except a vague fondness for Benjamin as a friend.”

Dean drags his book into his lap. “Cas, uh, look, you can’t dump three hours of first person angel on angel lesbian porn into my head and then have a morbid conversation. You’re gonna have to give me, like, ten minutes to deal. And, uh, maybe like a year to look you in the eye again.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You still don’t understand?”

“Understand – what?”

“Dean, you’re my best friend. But you’re very slow on the uptake.”

“ _Three hours of lesbian porn about_ you _, I’m kind of distracted_.”

“You’re Benjamin!”

That makes Dean pause. “Uh. I’m not… I mean… You loved him because he was an angel. You didn’t like humans...”

“I have been aware of the irony of the things I said and felt ever since that memory returned to me. It’s never been about who is a human or angel. It’s who I _care_ about. And I care about you. In the same way I cared for Benjamin… It took this memory to realise – to understand...”

“So you dumped all that porn in my head as some sort of courtship ritual?” Dean is laughing at him now. Fondly. “I mean I’m not complaining… Is there more where that came from?”

Cas scowls at him. “No.”

“Are you sure? I mean if it’s all been windexed outta your brain, who knows what other crazy shit you got up to in the past.”

“I would prefer to make new memories.”

Dean blinks at him. “Right.”

“With you.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Preferably now.”

“Oh thank _god_.”


End file.
